


On My Side

by seibelsays



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Thinks Too Much, The Avengers (2012) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seibelsays/pseuds/seibelsays
Summary: “We’ve got a good thing going here, Steve. But nothing lasts forever. At some point, something is going to change. You may not like the result.”Steve overanalyzes his relationship with Natasha.





	On My Side

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Steve Rogers, okay?

Steve stopped the video with the push of a button. On the first try that time, that was something. 

Small wins. Baby steps. One moment at a time.

Today was the day. He would look through the files _today_. He would. He just had to open the folder. The fate of everyone he’d known was inside.

He swallowed hard and forced his hands to move, opening the folder.

Morita. _Deceased._

Monty. _Deceased._

Bucky. _Missing in action._

God, that one hurt. How had they never taken the time to update the file? Surely, by now, _someone_ had bothered to update Bucky’s status? Someone had given Rebecca and the others the closure they’d likely needed so desperately, hadn’t they? Even if there was no body to bury, _someone_ should have thought to give the Barnes’ that much consideration. Bucky had literally given everything and they hadn’t even....

He quickly moved that file to the side and took a few deep breaths, forcing the tears back down. Maybe - later - he could talk to someone about that. He didn’t know if Rebecca was still...but someone should…

Later. He’d look into it further later.

He opened his eyes and looked at the next file.

_Peggy._

At least this one didn’t have any red ink on it. Peggy was simply...retired. 

He looked at the phone number listed on the file. Could he do it? Barge right back into her life after all this time? Could he be that selfish?

Would she _want_ him to be that selfish? Or would she be angrier that he’d been floundering through this alone and his pride had never allowed him to reach out?

He didn’t know. He _couldn’t_ know. A person could change a lot in 70 years - even if he thought he knew Peggy back then, who knows what she would say now?

***

“Agent Romanoff,” Phil Coulson greeted the red-headed woman approaching the Quinjet. “Captain Rogers,” Coulson continued, in way of introduction.

“Ma’am,” Steve greeted.

“Hi.” She looked to Coulson and lowered her voice. “They need you on the bridge, they’re starting the face trace.”

Coulson nodded and then moved past them, presumably on his way to the bridge. Agent Romanoff’s intense gaze stayed fixed on Steve, making him internally squirm, just a little, at the scrutiny. It reminded him of the way the girls Bucky would set him up with would size him up - and always found him wanting.

Her mouth twitched slightly as she led him across the deck. “There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice.” She smirked. “Thought Coulson was gonna swoon.”

There was something in the set of her shoulders, the way she carried herself. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest - the past was past, and he was needed in the present. He refocused his attention on Agent Romanoff. 

“Did he ask you to sign his trading cards yet?” Her question surprised him - he knew the government had sold comic books back in the day, and there had been quite a bit of memorabilia created in the years since. ( _Don’t think about Bucky Bears, never think about the Bucky Bears._ ) He hadn’t heard about trading cards. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A quieter voice in the back of his mind wondered if they were Captain America trading cards or Howling Commando trading cards. If Agent Coulson presented him with a Bucky Barnes trading card, he might lose the little sanity he was still desperately clinging to.

“Trading cards?” he asked, warily.

That earned him a smile. “They’re vintage. He’s very proud.”

***

What a unmitigated disaster. Coulson was dead. The helicarrier had almost fallen from the sky. Thor and Banner were MIA. SHIELD had proven completely untrustworthy. Peggy’s life’s work and it was for nothing. He had died - _Bucky had died_ \- to protect the world from the cube and the weapons it powered. They threw that sacrifice away and funded their treachery by selling his image. The entire thing made him sick and angry.

But he had to put that away for the moment. Right now there was a mission and he needed a plan. SHIELD wasn't going to be of much help for awhile. Steve was currently miles away from where he needed to be. There was Stark, but his suit was damaged. 

If they were going to stop Loki, they needed allies and they needed a plan. Steve immediately went in search of Agent Romanoff. Whatever misgivings he had about SHIELD and the organization’s intentions didn’t necessarily extend to her. Maybe that was foolish on his part - she was a part of SHIELD, a skilled spy and manipulator. She told lies for a living.

_So did Peggy, in the end._

He’d heard the tiny tremor in her voice over the comm when she agreed to locate, engage, and neutralize Barton. He didn’t want people who felt no fear - emotionless drones were of no use to him. He wanted her on his six because of that fear - she’d been afraid, but she’d jumped in anyway.

The door slid open to reveal Agents Romanoff and Barton. “Time to go,” he said.

“Go where?”

“I’ll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?”

“I can.” Barton stepped forward.

He gave Barton a once over. His skin was pallid, his voice cracking. His eyes didn’t quite meet Steve’s when he volunteered. Plainly put - he looked like hell. Steve was suddenly - violently - reminded of another man captured by these weapons and he had to forcibly push the thought of Bucky Barnes away. Now was not the time to be thinking of friends too long dead.

He didn’t know Barton very well, but there was one person in this room that did and he trusted her opinion.

He looked to Agent Romanoff, who gave him a single nod.

That settled that then. “You got a suit? Then suit up.”

***

Steve smashed his shield into the last alien in his vicinity and sent it flying. He glanced around, searching for Agent Romanoff. They’d gotten separated in the fighting, the aliens’ attempt to divide and conquer. She was a few yards away, taking down one enemy after another. He was almost frozen in awe as she used her legs to choke one alien while she electrocuted it, then immediately grabbed it’s weapon and turned it against the others. He blinked out of his reverie and rushed to help.

Only to almost be shot himself when he approached and startled her.

She held back, just barely, her face settling from concentration into relief, her fatigue betrayed by the slump of her shoulders as she leaned against a ruined taxi.

“Captain, none of this is gonna mean a damn thing if we don’t close that portal.”

“Our biggest guns couldn’t touch it.”

She turned back to face him. “Maybe it’s not about guns.”

He glanced at her. She couldn’t be serious. The set of her jaw told him otherwise. “If you want to get up there, you’re gonna need a ride.”

“I’ve got a ride.” She threw down her weapon and looked over her shoulder as she pointedly glanced at his shield. “I could use a boost though.”

She really couldn’t be serious. He stared at her in astonishment as she got into position. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “It’s gonna be fun.” Under other circumstances, he would have laughed. Her voice didn’t sound convinced, but if she truly had doubts, she clearly wasn’t going to let them stop her. She had a job to do and was going to see it through. He could respect that.

He crouched into position and gave her a quick nod. She charged at him, pivoting at the last possible moment to leap onto the car before vaulting onto his shield so he could toss her into the air. He prepared to move, in case he’d misjudged his aim and tossed her out of range of her target. She twisted in the air and grabbed ahold of one of the alien craft as it passed overhead, swinging herself up onto the craft, and prepared to take down the pilot.

“Wow,” he muttered, staring after her. Agent Romanoff certainly was something.

***

“Close it,” he ordered. _I’m sorry, Howard. I’m sorry...Tony._

It occurred to him that he was lucky it was Agent Romanoff on the roof. Someone else might have questioned the order, might have argued to give Stark more time to get back. Agent Romanoff seemed to understand what it cost him to give that order, and didn’t make things harder by questioning it. He appreciated that more than he could probably ever express.

***

“So,” Agent Romanoff - Natasha - said by way of greeting, “what’s next for you?”

Steve looked out over the park and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.”

She considered him and his stomach didn’t drop under her scrutiny. What a difference from just a few days ago. He supposed stopping an alien invasion together would do that.

What kind of world had he woken up in?

“SHIELD could use you,” she said, her eyes appraising.

“I didn’t think SHIELD sold War Bonds,” he replied.

A slow, surprised smile slid across her face. “How did I not know you were this much of a smart ass?”

“They left a lot of things out of the history books.”

***

A few weeks after New York, he accepted Fury’s offer and packed up what little he’d accumulated in his apartment to make the move to Washington DC. He’d be heading up a tactical team, getting his hands dirty in ways he wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable with. He was still catching up on all the things he’d missed - maybe he would understand more in time why all of this was necessary. 

What he’d told Dr. Erskine all those years ago was still true - he didn’t want to kill anyone, but he still didn’t like bullies. It seemed like these days there were more bullies than ever. 

So he would catch up to the rest of the world, let Natasha teach him how to be a spy, and then do what he had been chosen to do.

And if he got to know Natasha a little better in the process, well. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

***

“Shut down the engines, then find me a date.”

“I’m multitasking!”

He really wished she would stop trying to set him up on a date. He doesn’t need a date, he doesn’t want a date, and he’s perfectly capable of getting his own dates, thank you very much. Sure, the thing with Beth crashed and burned almost before it started, but he had been leaving New York for DC anyway and long distance that early wasn’t going to be fair to anyone.

And if the thing with Beth crashed and burned because every time he looked at her, he was wishing it was someone else, well...at least Bucky was getting a good laugh at his expense in the afterlife.

He was tempted to try and turn the tables on Natasha - drop a hint or two that if she really wanted to get him a date, she would let him take her out to dinner. Or coffee - coffee was apparently a date now, because the future was ridiculous.

And then that damn arrow necklace showed up and he hadn’t seen her without it since.

So he jumped out of a plane without a parachute instead. He could take a hint - she and Clint were very close. Likely involved. Or at the very least, had a very long and complicated history and she wasn’t interested. Or hell - maybe she’d sent the necklace to herself, thinking that this was the kinder way to let him down. 

In any event, the fact remained that Natasha was not interested. So he would keep his distance and eventually she would take the hint that he didn’t want her setting him up any more than she wanted to go out to dinner with him.

In the meantime, he had a few pirates to find.

***

Fury was dead. Fury was dead and his own face is all over the news and the very people he had been working alongside were now hunting him.

He needed to get that drive. What he would do next, well. He would figure that out. Maybe Tony could help him. Fury had said not to trust anyone, but Fury had never trusted anyone. Tony might not be directly involved with SHIELD, but he’d be able to help him figure out just what information had gotten Fury killed. Despite any reservations Steve might have initially had about Tony, he’d proven himself trustworthy. Steve had always put his faith in people more than institutions anyway.

Get the drive. Get to New York. That was the plan.

He slowly walked through the hospital hallway and stopped in front of the vending machine. His stomach sank as he realized that the drive was gone.

Okay. This wasn’t a disaster just yet. There was surveillance in the hall and all over the hospital. Step one: review the video, figure out who used the machine. Step two: track that person down. Step three - 

A popping sound interrupted his thoughts.

_Natasha._

Her eyes lit up as he pushed her against the wall and demanded answers. She was enjoying this tiny glimpse into his darker nature. He shouldn’t like that look on her face as much as he did.

“I only _act_ like I know everything, Rogers.”

A tiny sliver of fear crept into her eyes as he grabbed her shoulders and he knew that he would hate himself for it later. Even if she was likely pretending. Fury would have called it a weakness. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

Whatever fear he’d seen in her face evaporated as she told him her story. She even gave him that flirty look he both loved and hated. “Bye bye bikinis,” she smirked.

He played along with her banter - their own way of apologizing to each other. “Yeah, I’m sure you look terrible in ‘em now.”

Fury might never have trusted anyone, but look where that got him. Steve wasn’t Fury. He could do this and he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

***

“If it were down to me to save your life - now you be honest with me - would you trust me to do it?”

Hadn’t he already trusted her? Isn’t that what he’d been doing almost since the moment they met? Yes, there was one moment of doubt on the _Lemurian Star_. But that was all - one moment. Had one moment really been enough to destroy her confidence that he trusted her? Was that really how little it took?

Her eyes were searching his, tearing through him, desperate to pick up on any trace of deceit. But the truth wouldn’t satisfy her.

“I would now,” he lied, then deflected by gently nudging her knee, ignoring the sparks the brush of contact sent through him. “And besides, I’m always honest.”

She sat back, seemingly satisfied. “Well,” her familiar smirk returning and making his heart speed up, “you’re pretty chipper for a guy who just found out he died for nothing.”

_I knew I died for nothing a long time ago._

“I guess I just like to know who it is I’m fighting.”

She smiled, and he wondered if she’d ever realize he was a much better liar than she gave him credit for.

***

He stared at the thick file she’d handed him. He flipped it open and his eyes landed on Bucky’s photo.

His first thought was that Bucky’s designation as “Missing In Action” made so much more sense now. SHIELD was HYDRA, and HYDRA had Bucky. They never updated his file to “Deceased” because they knew he wasn’t.

He distantly registered that this was a strange thought to be having at the moment but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. If he could burn it all down again he would. 

From the fire in Natasha’s eyes, she would too. Interesting - he had to wonder at her reasons. Was it just the betrayal? Or was there more?

Maybe, one day, she’d tell him.

***

First the damn arrow necklace, now the Hulk’s lullabye - Steve was starting to wonder if he’d had some sort of gimmick Natasha would have looked his way instead. Maybe if he hadn’t been so hellbent on finding Bucky or if he’d been willing to go Europe with Fury. He wondered if the mistake was letting her walk away that day in the cemetery, her parting words asking him to call Sharon.

He’d made a lot of mistakes recently. It was hard to pinpoint just one that landed them where they were now.

Tonight, it’s all he can do not to grimace as Natasha and Bruce awkwardly dance around one another. Natasha was doing everything short of dropping herself into Bruce’s lap. Poor Bruce looked like he was waiting for someone to announce it was all a joke.

As much as he hated it, he knew he should say something to Bruce, give him a nudge in the right direction. It wasn’t his fault that Steve was hung up on Natasha, nor was it Natasha’s fault that she didn’t share Steve’s feelings. If the two of them could find happiness together, they should. They should grab that happiness with both hands and hold on for as long as it lasted.

After that, maybe he’d see if Thor would give up a little more of that Asgardian mead and he could try to get drunk for the first time since 1945.

***

“Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk,” Natasha purred.

Maybe he was imagining the plea in her eyes, asking if they were still friends, if this thing with Bruce ruined everything. It didn’t really matter to him either way. They’d all taken a hit today - they needed as many friends as they could get. And despite everything - maybe because of everything - Natasha was the best friend he had these days.

“You know what, Romanoff?” he replied, projecting a touch more sarcasm than he’d been using with her lately. Her eyes brightened and he felt his unease settle for just a moment.

Then he caught the resignation in Bruce’s eyes. 

Steve sighed internally. One step forward, twelve steps back. When had things gotten so complicated?

***

“I’m not leaving this rock with one civilian left on it.”

“I didn’t say we should leave,” Natasha replied simply.

He spun to face her, her face open, her eyes old and wise beyond her years. Steve found that he was looking at her - really, truly looking at her - for the first time since she’d returned after they’d taken down SHIELD. The arrow necklace was gone. The Hulk was somewhere in the city, probably making just as many messes as he was averting.

Natasha was standing at the precipice with him.

“There are worse ways to go,” she continued quietly. “And besides, where else am I going to get a view like this?”

He had to agree. The difference was that from where he was standing, all he could see was her.

***

They didn’t die. They may have technically, officially, won the day, but at a cost.

Sokovia was destroyed. 

Pietro was dead.

Bruce was missing.

If Natasha was heartbroken over Bruce - or felt anything at all regarding Bruce - she wasn’t showing it. Maybe that should have been a sign, but Steve was privately too relieved that the two were seemingly on the outs to put much effort into caring.

Soon enough they’re back to work. Partners again, leading the Avengers together, training the new team. Saving the world. They have their own missions separate from the cause - him, hunting down every lead on Bucky; her, wiping out the red in her ledger. But when it mattered, she was with him.

They had learned to work together almost seamlessly, taking cues from one another with barely a glance, let alone a word. In the back of his mind, he knew that this was just how Natasha operated. This was how she worked with Clint. The silent conversations that occurred between a twitch of the lips and a quirk of an eyebrow that Steve had envied not all that long ago were now commonplace between himself and Natasha. Sam thought it was hilarious all the way up until he didn’t and suddenly he was getting pressure to date from a whole new source.

“You _need_ to stop moping around here and ask Natasha to dinner already.”

“Nat and I had dinner last night,” Steve argued.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Ordering pizza for intel review is not asking Natasha to dinner.” He shook his head. “We’ve got a good thing going here, Steve. But nothing lasts forever. At some point, _something_ is going to change. You may not like the result.”

“You’re right, Sam. We have a good thing here. There’s no reason to mess it up.”

Steve can admit in the privacy of his own thoughts that Sam might have a point. But there’s too much going on at the moment. If she’s heartbroken over Bruce leaving, she hides it well. If she feels anything close to what he feels, she hides that pretty well, too. There’s always another mission, another bad guy, another day to save. In his increasingly limited spare time, Steve is still searching for Bucky and it all adds up to not being the right moment. 

Steve’s honest enough with himself to recognize that for as close as they are on everything else, Natasha has distanced herself from his search for Bucky. He knows there’s more to the story there. It was far too easy for her to get Bucky’s file, despite her claims that he was a ghost that she’d tried chasing with no success. Knowing what he little does about both Bucky and Natasha’s past, he’s not sure he wants the full story. With one final thought about the fire in her eyes as she’d handed him Bucky’s file, he sealed those thoughts up in a box in his mind and tossed it into a dusty corner.

But his feelings for her have only grown and he’s begun to worry that if there isn’t a resolution for them - one way or another - soon, he’s going to explode. 

***

Natasha choosing to sign the Accords doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it might. He can understand her reasons, even if he doesn’t agree with them. He can see that she’s doing her very best to keep her makeshift family together. And he knows that she likely has a point, she can read the landscape better than almost anyone he knows - but it doesn’t change that signing would go against everything he’s ever tried to stand for.

When the news on Peggy comes, it’s a knife to the chest. He had known it was coming, had thought he was prepared. He was wrong. It’s all he can do not to admit everything to Natasha when she shows up at the funeral - not in a last ditch attempt to persuade him to go with her, but because he needed her.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

It’s both the best and the worst thing anyone has ever said to him and it takes every ounce of strength within him to not break down sobbing as he clings to her.

***

“Are you alright?” He tried to keep his emotions out of his voice but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d managed it.

He knew he’d failed when he detected the note of confusion in her response. “Yeah, Yeah. I’m fine.”

For a brief moment, he regrets not signing the Accords. If he had signed, he would have been there with her. If his not signing caused Nat to doubt him...he shook the thought away. Once again, his own feelings, his life and everything he wanted had to be put aside.

Right now, if he ever wanted the chance to see if his friend was still reachable - if he ever wanted to see his friend alive - he had to find Bucky before anyone else did.

***

“We have orders to shoot on sight,” Sharon warned, before turning to go give the same report to her superiors.

And just like that, despite Natasha’s warnings still ringing in his ears, any remaining resolve to stay away crumbled. 

The Accords were wrong and he’d chosen retirement over agreeing to them. That had been his right and his choice. But he couldn’t ignore this. He gave up his life once to save the world. He’d been putting his own happiness on the back burner in favor of and in service to the world ever since. No more - he’s going to get Bucky, and from every moment after that he was going to live his life on his own terms. He was going to choose himself for once. 

_You’ll only make things worse._

Natasha’s words from earlier haunted him. He had no plan beyond this, no idea what exactly he would do with Bucky once he found him. But he would make it work. He had to. He owed it to them both.

As he finished gearing up, he idly wondered if Natasha would ever forgive him once the dust settled.

***

“For the record, this is what ‘worse’ looks like,” Natasha scolded lightly as she matched her pace to his, falling in next to him like she had so many times before.

He gave her a half-hearted glare, more an excuse to verify for himself that she was alright after Vienna. At first glance, she was fine and had shaken off the events at the UN the same way she’d shaken off every other close call she’d had before. But Steve knew better, or at least he thought he did. There was a slight tightness in her smile that suggested she wasn’t entirely happy with the line that had been drawn and that they stared at each other from opposite sides of it.

He would love to ask her - find out if she would tell him or if she’d smirk and deflect. A few years ago, he knew that she would have told him. A few months ago, he would never have had to ask. Now he wasn’t so sure and he hated it.

***

Of course Natasha would be the one to figure out their plan. Now she was standing between them and the jet and they only had a few moments before the rest of his team’s sacrifice would be in vain. 

Once again, he would have to choose between what _he_ wanted and what was best for the world. Only this time, he wasn’t entirely sure he could go through with it - not if it means truly fighting Natasha.

“I’m gonna regret this,” Natasha muttered, looking at Bucky, who stared back at her impassively. 

_That makes two of us._

He braced for the impact of her Widow’s Bite, prepared to throw himself in front of Bucky. Bucky could fly the jet, finish the mission. He would happily sacrifice himself, accept the consequences with the rest of the team. Bucky wouldn’t let them down.

And then he heard T’Challa’s strangled cry.

“Go,” she said, motioning to the jet, her eyes pleading with him.

He’s frozen in the moment before Bucky tugs at him to get moving. Then he doesn’t question it, can’t even stop long enough to say thank you. The only thing he can do is keep moving, complete the mission, and hope that one day they would have the time to say the things that were left unsaid. That one day they could fix this.

Sam had been right - nothing lasts forever. But maybe the things worth fighting for were a little harder to destroy.

***

“Just a little further, Buck. Few more steps.” Bucky was almost completely unconscious at this point and his dead weight was making it hard to get into the safehouse relatively undetected.

At least, Steve hoped it was still a safehouse.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, using a location he knew Natasha knew about. Hell, she was the one who told him about this house in the first place. But it was the closest place they could get when Bucky’s condition took a turn for the worse and Steve really didn’t have a lot of options. Hospitals were out - both of their faces were exceptionally well known and it wasn’t like Bucky’s particular prosthetic was all that common. Even if most of it had been vaporized by Tony’s repulsor blast, the remnants were still there. And if Tony reported that particular injury, well. They couldn’t just waltz into any emergency room - it would raise too many questions they couldn’t answer.

The only option was to get their heads down somewhere relatively safe until Bucky’s serum kicked in and he healed up on his own. 

_First rule of going on the run is don’t run. Walk._

Finally, the lock clicked open and Steve was able to maneuver them inside. He kicked the door closed and made for the couch, depositing Bucky onto the cushions as gently as he could. He went back to secure the door and look for the lights - he really should do a quick sweep of the place before they got too comfortable, but Steve honestly wasn’t sure Bucky would be able to move again anytime soon in any case.

Locks in place, Steve risked a peek out of the window, hiding in the shadow of the thin white curtain. The street was quiet. No pedestrians, no lights on in any of the surrounding buildings. Their luck might have - somehow - held out.

A creak from the hallway caused Steve to spin around. He did a quick mental catalog of any weapons he was carrying - and came up relatively empty.

_Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature._

He reluctantly pushed Natasha’s voice out of his head and tried to focus. She was still keeping him safe, even now, miles away, but if he got too caught up it could all be for nothing.

Light footsteps approached in the dark. For one, fleeting moment, hope flared in his chest that it was Natasha. She might be on the run now as well - there was no way Ross would let her deception slide.

The cause of the footsteps tentatively stepped into the dim light. Big blue eyes stared at him from behind black framed glasses. Not Natasha. Steve didn’t recognize her, but the look on her face suggested that she certainly recognized him. He braced himself - she might be tiny compared to him, but she could potentially weld a weapon just as well as he could.

Bucky groaned, drawing her attention. She gasped quietly at the sight of him. Steve tensed, unsure how this girl would react if she recognized Bucky. She turned back to him, her eyes having grown impossibly large now.

“Chicken soup,” she said to Steve’s surprise. Her accent sounded unexpectedly American. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

***

Steve warily eyed the steaming bowl of soup in front of him. He was starving and the soup smelled utterly delicious, but after the last few days (years) he couldn’t shake his paranoia that easily. 

Natasha would be proud.

“You watched me make it,” the girl said, her lips quirking into a tiny approximation of a smile.

“I could have missed something.”

“Could you?” 

When Steve didn’t reply, she snatched the spoon out of his hand, dunked it into the soup, and raised it to her own lips. 

“Mmmmm,” she hummed pointedly as she chewed on the noodles.

“You could have built up an immunity to whatever you want to dose me with.” Steve was reaching now, and they both knew it.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen too many movies.”

“First time anyone’s accused me of that,” he admitted quietly. She huffed out what might have been a laugh and dropped the spoon next to his hand. She looked past him into the other room where Bucky was still unconscious.

“He gonna bleed out on us?”

Steve sighed, picking up the spoon and poking at the noodles floating in his bowl. “Don’t suppose you have a first aid kit handy?”

“Eat. I’ll take care of him.” She slid out of her chair. Steve grabbed her wrist as she passed.

“Why?”

She sighed, staring into the other room. “You’re not the only one who read the Accords and had the good sense to run.”

***

Steve watched from the kitchen as the girl gently tended to Bucky. She didn’t stop her attentions when Bucky stirred.

“Hey handsome,” she said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes opened slightly and he blinked a few times, probably trying to focus on the source of the voice. “‘M I dead?”

“Not yet.”

“Jail?”

She smiled. “Not yet,” she repeated, her voice full of amused affection.

“Haven’t been called handsome in decades,” Bucky mumbled. Steve stiffened. On one hand, hearing Bucky feebly flirt warmed his heart - that was one more piece of his friend that was still in there. On the other hand, if this girl hadn’t already figured out who Bucky was, he was getting dangerously close to revealing things that might lead to unanswerable questions. 

If the answer bothered her, it didn’t show. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

“I like you.”

“I am pretty awesome,” she replied nonchalantly, reaching to brush the hair away from his face and dabbing at the few cuts that hadn’t quite healed up yet. She didn’t ask and no one was offering up an answer.

***

Steve watched out the window while the girl continued focusing her attentions on Bucky, who hadn’t said anything else and had presumably passed out again. A sliver of fear crept into Steve’s stomach - what if Bucky’s injuries were more severe than his serum and their meager supplies could handle? Obviously, the arm was an issue, but beyond that. Internal bleeding, lacerated liver, punctured lung - one girl with a well-stocked first aid kit didn’t stand a chance against any of that.

He wished Nat were here. Even if she didn’t have the answers either. 

“Can you help me?” 

Steve turned to her. “With what?”

“He can’t be comfortable like this. I need to at least get the jacket off, but I can’t lift him.”

Steve looked at his friend. His brow was furrowed in his sleep, although Steve couldn’t be sure if it was nightmares or pain. He moved to the couch, crouching down so he could get a secure grip on his friend and lifted him. Bucky groaned at being moved, but didn’t open his eyes. The girl made quick work of the jacket, then nodded at Steve to set Bucky back into the cushions. 

“Thanks.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Helping him.”

She blinked at him, a crease forming between her eyes. “Didn’t you come here for help?”

“I came here because I was told it was a safehouse.”

“It is.”

“I was expecting it to be empty.”

She tilted her head back a little and looked at him appraisingly. Her expression was a little too close to the look Nat would give him when he said something stupid for comfort. “Who told you it would be empty?”

That was an uncomfortable realization. He’d assumed Nat’s safehouse would be empty. It wasn’t like she went around sharing these things with everyone. 

Maybe he didn’t know Nat as well as he thought. Maybe he never had.

By the time Steve shook himself out of his own head, the girl had returned her attention to Bucky, now gently probing the gashes in his side, cleaning them up and covering them with gauze.

“There is a shower, you know. Hot water and everything.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can smell you from here.”

Steve made a noncommittal noise and didn’t move. 

She sighed. “I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Maybe I’m worried about keeping watch while you’re busy.”

“If you were, then you’d be watching the street instead of me.” She taped the last piece of gauze in place then gently stroked Bucky’s hair. He leaned into her touch in his sleep and began muttering.

“What’d he say?” Steve asked.

She shook her head. “‘S just...nonsense.” She glanced up at him. “Go, I’ve got this.”

***

Steve hoped no one else wanted a shower anytime soon because he used all the hot water and couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. He used his towel to wipe the steam from the mirror and stared at the reflection he barely recognized.

He sighed. He was going to have to do something about the hair. Maybe work on a beard. Knowing Nat, there would be some hair dye around here somewhere. 

He pulled on the soft sweats he’d found in the closet with the towels. The pants were a little short - they were sized more for someone Bucky’s height - but they’d work for now. Until they figured out their next move.

He listened for movement outside the bathroom but all was silent. He assumed that meant Bucky was still sleeping and the girl was...well, Steve didn’t exactly know what to make of the girl. But the quiet meant Steve still had a few minutes to himself before he really needed to go back out there and start planning their next move.

Would Nat remember she’d told him about this place? If she was running now too, would she think to come here? He wanted to think so. He couldn’t be sure. 

He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

***

He started mapping out a plan in his head while he did the dishes. They needed to figure out where their friends had been taken, then he could work on a way to get them out. They shouldn’t have to suffer for his choices. Most of them had families to consider - he never should have gotten them involved in the first place.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Bucky grumbled, running a towel through his wet hair. He’d woken up about an hour ago and declared it was his own stench that had finally shaken him out of his slumber. The girl had laughed and helped him to the bathroom. Steve hadn’t seen her since.

“I’ve got to find the others,” Steve replied.

“Call the redhead.”

As if it were that simple. Steve shook his head and Bucky huffed.

“This you bein’ stubborn or bad with women?”

Steve glared at him half-heartedly and a ghost of a smile appeared on Bucky’s face. 

The girl appeared in the kitchen and tossed a USB stick at Steve. He caught it easily and gave her a quizzical look.

“Your friends are on the Raft.”

Steve flicked a glance at Bucky, who’s expression was blank. “That’s a convenient thing for you to know.”

“I know. You’re lucky I’m here.”

Bucky huffed again, softer this time, and his ghost of a smile grew just a little.

Great. Bucky had a crush. Steve suddenly felt far too old for this. “What’s the Raft?”

“Didn’t make it to Article 184, Section 36A of the Sokovia Accords, I take it? The Raft is an underwater prison 200 miles off the coast of Greenland. It’s where they intend to lock up anyone who doesn’t play nicely in the sandbox.” She motioned to the USB in Steve’s hand. “I don’t know how much has changed since those schematics were drawn up, but they were the final draft that came across my desk.”

“Your desk?” 

She paused, considering. “Darcy Lewis. Former aide to Secretary Ross. I’m a friend of Thor’s.”

Of all the things she could have said, all of the people she could have been, this was probably the last thing he would have guessed or even suspected. He glanced at Bucky, who remained impassive.

Bucky had already known then. Interesting.

When had all his friends become spies?

“Former?” 

“I left around the time I couldn’t talk them out of adding the extrajudicial execution provisions.”

***

“So. You and Red.”

They were an hour into their flight to the Raft, with at least another two hours to go. 

“So. You and Darcy,” he countered.

A small smile appeared on his friend’s face. “If only.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “If only.”

***

She’s sitting at the entrance to their new safehouse after he and Bucky jailbreak their friends. He steps in front of the others, ready to take the fall, prepared to sacrifice once again so that they might have a chance to get away. He felt Bucky tense at his back, his friend ready and willing to go down fighting, to follow him into the jaws of death one more time, despite how battered and bruised and broken he already is. The others quickly follow suit, ready to toss their newly gained freedom away for him.

He wondered what he’d ever done to inspire such loyalty. He was pretty sure he didn’t deserve it.

She blinks and there is the twitch of her lip, the only indication that she’s registered their shift in formation at all. Clint chuckles softly at the sight. “Don’t think she’s here to arrest us, Cap.”

As the others stand down and slowly slip away into the safety of their temporary safehouse, their acknowledgment of Natasha is muted. Wanda doesn’t respond at all, Scott calmly leading her inside. Sam gives her a nod, while Clint grasps her shoulder as he passes.

Bucky doesn’t move from Steve’s side.

“You’re not dead,” Natasha says to Bucky. 

“Half expected to have to break you out of there, too,” Bucky replies.

That earns a raised eyebrow. “Would you have?”

Bucky shrugged. “We were already there. And this one seems to like you.” He turned slightly to Steve. “I’ve gotta call Darce. She’s gotta be goin’ crazy by now,” he muttered.

“You might want to check upstairs first,” Natasha said.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. He gave her a quick nod, then hurried inside, leaving Steve and Natasha alone.

“Darcy’s here?” Steve asked.

“And Jane. And Laura and the kids. Sam’s mother and Scott’s family wouldn’t leave the States, but I’ve got a secure uplink set up so they can call them.”

“Thank you. Can I ask how it was that Darcy ended up at your safehouse?”

Nat shrugged. “It’s actually her house. She lets me crash.”

“Oh.” That actually brought up a lot of other questions - why would Nat tell him about Darcy’s house as a safehouse if he had never met Darcy? How did Nat even know Darcy?

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two of them as he considered these questions and more. Steve hated it. Their silences had never been uncomfortable, even when they’d barely known one another. Even if she never wanted anything else from him, even if his feelings were never returned, all he wanted was her friendship back. So he asked the only question that mattered.

“What the hell are you doin’ here, Nat?”

Her lips quirked upward in a tiny smile. “You already know the answer to that.”

“Maybe I want to hear you say it.” He took a step closer to her. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “I need to hear you say it.”

He watched as her lips pursed, visibly swallowing. He understood how hard this could be for her. But he needed to know. He needed to hear it out loud. If she was only here because she was now running from Tony, Ross, and the Accords, he would take it. But if she was here for another reason - he needed her to say it.

“Who do you want me to be?” she asked finally, echoing their long-ago conversation.

He lowered his eyes and shook his head. Her face fell at the gesture, knowing she hadn’t given him the answer he wanted.

“I want you to be whatever - whoever - makes you happy.”

“Would that make you happy?”

“It’s not about me.”

She nodded slightly. “It is for me.”

He stepped closer still. “If you’re gonna be here, be here.”

She reached for his hand and clasped it in hers. “You’ve always seen more in me than there really was.”

“That’s not true.”

“It was. Until I met you.” She smiled a little, finally meeting his eyes. “I never...I didn’t know that it could mean so much.”

“Clint believed in you.”

Her smile grew. “Clint’s Clint.”

“And me?”

Natasha hesitated, then reached up and pressed her lips briefly to his. 

“Nat,” he breathed.

“If you’re going to turn me down, can you just...not? For one second? Just stay quiet. For one minute.”

“I wasn’t going to turn you down.”

“You weren’t?” she whispered.

“Never. But I should warn you that Scott and Sam are staring at us through the window.”

A soft snort escaped Natasha as she took a small step back and glanced over her shoulder to see Scott and Sam silently applauding on the other side of the window. He’d never heard her make that sound before. 

He shook his head at their friends’ antics. “We should get inside.” He took a step towards the door, but was pulled back by Natasha’s soft grip on his hand.

“You really want me on your side?” she murmured.

He squeezed her hand. “I always want you on my side.”


End file.
